Other Writers
Are they real
Or ghostly reflections
In a window pane?
Do they go where I go
When night begins—
Out in the desert
With my pain…
Are their griefs real
Or mere background hiss,
Like an unrelenting day of rain?
Are they real
Or ghostly reflections
In a window pane?
Do they go where I go
When night begins—
Out in the desert
With my pain…
Are their griefs real
Or mere background hiss,
Like an unrelenting day of rain?
I'm real, John... quite real.
But you see only my distorted reflection in that pain of glass...
😄😇😄
